


The Merry Jest

by K_dAzrael



Series: Jest stories [1]
Category: Marvel 616, Thor (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_dAzrael/pseuds/K_dAzrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki tricks <s>Sigyn</s> Balder into marrying him, because there’s no way the Asgardians would accept such a union as valid. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted this as a prompt on a while back (as anon) and when no-one picked it up I was like FINE, YOU INGRATES, I’ll write it myself. And then I’ll make my own kink meme... with blackjack... and hookers!

  
**Part 1: In Which a Great Many Things are Awkward**   


Loki admired himself in the mirror as he smoothed the fabric of the robe over his generous hips and adjusted the bridal crown on his head.

Bound and muted by one of Loki’s enchantments, Nanna glared at him with a deep and glittering hatred.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Don’t you think I suit blonde hair?”

*~*~*

Loki had always found weddings to be tedious, and it turned out his own was to be no exception.

By the time the dowry had been shown off, the swords presented and the goat blood sprinkled, Loki was stifling yawns. Balder didn’t help matters by stumbling through his vows and continually giving Loki-as-Nanna blushing looks. Loki all but shoved the ring onto Balder’s finger, rolling his eyes and trying not to snap ‘hurry up you old windbag!’ during Odin’s final grandiose blessing.

No sooner had Odin closed his lips but the sound of a commotion could be heard. The spectating crowd parted to admit two Asgardian warriors carrying Nanna like a rolled up carpet.

“Well, this is awkward,” Loki said, turning back into himself.

For a moment Loki thought the stunt might be entirely worth it, because the expression on Balder’s face was _priceless_.

*~*~*

Odin slapped his hands on the table and leaned towards his unrepentant adoptive son. “Loki Laufeyson – for I will not call you Odinson, you deserve no such courtesy – you are an arrogant, malicious creature, with no thought for the consequences of your actions!”

“Yes, yes,” Loki agreed irritably. “But the point is, Balder and I are both males. We cannot actually be wed.”

“That is by no means certain,” interjected the keeper of the law, stroking his long, straggly beard and flipping through the pages of a huge, yellowed tome filled with a closely-written secretary hand. “You were, as I understand it, female at the time the ceremony was performed?”

“How is that relevant?”

“Oh it’s very relevant. You see, the validity of the marriage depends on how well the ceremony was fulfilled. I see nothing here which relates to invalidation through a spontaneous change of sex following the nuptials.”

“Yes, well, I imagine that’s because IT NEVER CAME UP BEFORE.”

“That’s really none of my concern, young man. And you don’t need to shout.”

“Odin, Allfather,” Loki said sweetly, “please tell this old buffoon that Balder and I are not man and wife.”

“I will do no such thing,” Odin retorted. “Loathe am I to curse noble Balder here along with such a one as you, but Odin and his word are indivisible, and I have pronounced you both wed.”

Balder groaned softly and lowered his head to bury it in his arms.

Odin cast him a look of deep sympathy. “Balder... what would you have me do? If you can see a way out of this, then show it to me.”

Balder sighed and then sat upright once more, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands before addressing the three men seated round the table. “Unwittingly or not, I spoke vows. I placed that ring upon Loki’s finger. Until this day, Balder the Bright has never been forsworn... and nor shall I begin now. I will honour this marriage.”

Loki threw his hands up, fingers clenching on thin air. “You are all utterly insane!”

Odin pointed a stern finger at him. “If any good comes out of this it will be teaching you a lesson, Loki. You sought to amuse yourself for an hour or two at all Asgard’s expense, now live with the consequences. This time you _will_ reap what you have sown, wicked trickster!”

As Odin exited with a sweep of his ceremonial cloak, Loki drummed his fingernails on the table and thought for a moment. “And tell us, law-keeper, what of divorce?”

“Hmm, yes, well...” the old man flipped through pages. “Ah, I have it. A divorce may be sought upon the following grounds: mutual poverty; the grievous wounding of one spouse by the other; the publishing of satirical verses on one spouse by the other; the public striking of one spouse by the other; and infidelity... but only on the part of the female spouse. Which, as we have observed, is neither of you.”

“So I simply have to stab Balder, or give him a good, hard slap across the face in front of company?”

Balder’s hand shot out and seized Loki’s wrist as the god of lies tried to raise it. “No,” he told Loki, quite firmly.

The keeper of the law’s eyebrows bristled with enthusiasm as he observed: “Oh! It seems you may also divorce for ‘non-consummation’... after three years.”

“And what if,” Loki asked, leaning forwards, “one of us were to die? Would that absolutely and finally dissolve the marriage? Because I don’t want to arrive in Hel to find Patient Griselda over there waiting for me.”

“The law,” said the old man, forehead furrows deepening, “is not clear on that point.”

*~*~*

It turned out that usurping the bride’s place at the wedding feast made for a somewhat awkward evening. Not least because Nanna’s anguished wailings and vehement cursings of Loki’s name could be heard drifting into the hall from where she was shut up in a suite of rooms, being offered consolation by her closest kin.

“She seems to be taking it quite hard,” Loki ventured, popping a grape into his mouth. “And you say she won’t speak to you because she heard you’re actually taking this sham wedding seriously?”

Balder’s fingers clenched on the double-handled goblet as he lowered it from his mouth, his lips working in some sort of breathy invocation.

“What _are_ you muttering about?” Loki asked, accepting the Loving Cup from the other god’s hands.

Balder’s reply was hissed through his teeth: “I am simply praying to my departed ancestors for the strength to hope you don’t choke on this.”

*~*~*

“You might as well leave,” Loki said to the figures gathered at the foot of the bed. “We are not going to consummate this farce.”

Balder, for his part, was cultivating a blank, unfocused expression, his arms crossed over his bare chest.

“We take no pleasure in this,” Thor muttered.

“But it is our duty!” Volstagg boomed. “Asgard must have fresh offspring to swell the ranks of its citizens, Loki.”

“How in the nine realms do you think there’s going to be offspring when we are both male?”

“You can shapeshift to bear children,” Sif observed. “You’ve done it before.”

“Although,” interjected Fandral, “I don’t know how we’d feel about an eight-legged beast roaming the halls. Or a wolf, for that matter.”

“... Serpent,” Hogun added.

“There will be no offspring because there will be no consummation. Get out of my chamber!”

“Our chamber,” Balder corrected, motioning towards their collected belongings, now crammed in boxes and cluttering the suite.

“Just... kiss or something,” Thor covered his eyes with one hand and waved the other in a shooing gesture. “Then we’ll go.”

Balder sighed long-sufferingly and turned to Loki. There was a lengthy, _infinitely-awkward_ moment where their faces came closer and closer, each staring at the other with mixed horror and determination, until finally their lips met. The ‘kiss’, such as it was, lasted less than a second, both Balder and Loki springing back as if stung.

Fandral stroked his beard and looked haughtily critical. “Come now, I’ve kissed my grandam with more enthusiasm than that!”

Balder sighed again, with more irritation, and took a firm grasp of Loki’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed and making him squawk indignantly. This time Balder’s eyes were closed, but Loki’s remained open in shock as he was kissed with more thoroughness, focus, and tongue than he had been in quite some time.

At this display of conjugal passion, Fandral and Volstagg clapped politely. Thor made a choking sound and hurriedly shepherded everyone out.

*~*~*

 _Only Balder the Dim_ , thought Loki savagely to himself, _could fall asleep at such a time as this_. The best day of his life was in ruins, his paramour had vowed never to speak to him again and he was now shackled to the god of lies, and yet, Balder slept, one arm behind his head and one foot sticking out of the bed, face smooth and untroubled by the day’s woes.

Loki stewed in his vexation. _Should Loki Laufeyson accept these terms? Should the greatest sorcerer of the age struggle beneath the yoke of marriage to this senseless clod? Or shall he rather earn his freedom and have it proclaimed before the citizens of Asgard!_

Loki slipped from the bed and pulled on a robe, then went into what used to be his study before all of Balder’s pointless possessions began cluttering it up. He lit a candle in the wall sconce and moved a box of mail shirts from the stool before his desk.

Seating himself, he turned over a hastily-transcribed incantation and tapped the blank leaf with the nib of his pen. _This should be easy_ , he thought.

Twenty minutes later Loki growled in frustration. Nothing rhymed with ‘Balder’, except ‘solder’, which didn’t have very much satiric potential.

He screwed up the page – scribbled over as it was with evidence of his failure – and tossed it into the embers of the fire, then stalked back into the bedroom, throwing off his robe and climbing back into bed.

Balder shifted somnolently, rolling onto his side and slipping his arm across Loki’s chest, exhaling a snuffling breath against the back of his neck.

The solid weight of Balder’s arm and fierce heat of his skin reminded Loki of nothing so much as his late-night conferences with Thor when they were both children; the god of thunder climbing into his narrow bed to tell him something and then falling asleep behind him, where he would stay until they were both shaken awake long after dawn by their bemused mother.

Loki told himself the association was entirely unpleasant.

*~*~*

 **A/N** : Details on old norse marriage customs from [here](http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/wedding.shtml). The ‘publishing satirical verses’ thing made me laugh so hard I nearly cried. Best reason for divorce, EVER.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should point out that whenever this takes place is obviously before Balder discovers he’s the son of Odin.
> 
> Also, It turns out that one of my secret kinks is Loki getting a right good mothering.

  
**Part 2: In Which Balder Tries to Make the Best of It (and Loki Hinders Him)**   


The wedding breakfast was not less awkward than the previous evening’s feast – if anything, it was more so. The Asgardians seemed to have spent the night in restless contemplation of Loki’s latest prank, and as Loki entered the great hall he felt the weight of a hundred accusatory stares.

Loki calmly ignored the general discontent occasioned by his appearance and made his way to his table. There he found that Balder was sitting in the seat opposite the one that had ever been reserved for his own use.

“What are you doing at the royal table?” Loki hissed.

Balder glanced up and took another bite of venison sausage. “It seems I’ve married well.”

“So as well as sharing my bed and my chambers with you, I’m also expected to sit and watch you gorge yourself several times a day?” Loki gestured to the array of dishes before the other god.

“I eat for comfort,” Balder said defensively, taking a gulp of ale before tearing apart a half-loaf of bread. “Something now lacking in all other areas of my life.”

“Oh good, so I have joined myself to one destined to become not only ever more whiny and pathetic, but also ever more corpulent?”

“That was cruel, Loki,” Balder hung his head. “None of this was what I wanted.”

Loki gave a low growl of frustration, snatching up an apple and rising from the table. His fellow Asgardians were still glaring.

“What?” he snapped at no-one in particular. “I’ve betrayed this realm to frost giants, witches and demons but I ruin one stupid wedding day and _now_ I’m a villain?!”

In a final defiant gesture he threw the apple at Balder’s head. Balder only rubbed the spot where it had hit him and gave Loki another baleful look.

Loki stormed out of the hall and proceeded down the corridor, his mind bubbling over with ideas for petty acts of vengeance to pass the time until he could plot the finer details of something truly devastating – something that would really make all of Asgard rue the day. At the foot of the stairs he met Frigga, who was descending from the apartments above.

“My lady mother,” Loki said, gritting his teeth at being forced to engage in pleasantries when he wanted to mutter curses.

“Don’t take that obsequious tone with me, Loki,” Frigga returned mildly, linking her arm with his and drawing him into step with her own stately pace.

Loki had always found Frigga to be the most infuriating member of his adoptive family. While he could always think of new ways to surprise Thor and further anger Odin, Frigga never displayed even a trace of either surprise or anger at any of his actions. Her response was always one of implacable calm tinged with either pity or disappointment.

Loki had no idea why anyone would pity him, given his powers and intellect, and less still could he fathom why anyone would bother being _disappointed_ in him, given his lifetime of treacheries both small and large.

He bore her silence for a few moments before anticipating her with: “Odin has already lectured me on my latest stunt, so you need not bother.”

“I wouldn’t dream of lecturing you, Loki dear,” she replied. “Shall we visit the walled garden? It’s so lovely now that the sun is out.”

Loki knew better than to assume this was merely a suggestion, so he dutifully accompanied the elder goddess to the garden, where they took repose on an oaken seat beneath a goat willow which fluttered its catkins in the breeze. Frigga narrowed her eyes against the light filtering through the branches and tilted her head, apparently listening to the polyphony of birdsong.

Loki stared at the intricately looped coils of her silvery hair and grew gradually more uncomfortable as he waited for her to speak. When she turned her head to study him with her intense grey-blue gaze, he snapped: “you might as well just get on with it – go on, say whatever it is that you’re thinking.”

“Well,” she began, arranging her lapped gown over her knees, “all I was thinking was that I always knew your wedding day would be an unconventional one. Yet even for you this level of uproar is impressive.”

“It’s not my fault,” Loki said sullenly.

“Ah. ‘it’s not my fault, it just broke of it’s own accord...’, ‘It’s not my fault, Thor dared me...’. Pray tell, what manner of _not your fault_ is this, Loki?”

“It was a joke – I don’t know why they can’t see that. I especially don’t know why Balder can’t see that. If the stupid big oaf hadn’t insisted on upholding his ridiculous ideals of honesty and truth, he could be married to his sweetheart by now.”

“Is that all it is, do you think?” Frigga mused. “A desire to abide by his word, even when that word could not possibly be held against him under such circumstances?”

“What else could it be?”

“Nanna’s tears will dry, I think,” she remarked, seemingly as a non sequiteur. “Although I dare say she will mourn this disappointment exactly as long as is proper.”

There was silence again – this time, mercifully, of a much shorter duration. After pausing to contemplate a jackdaw hopping along the lawn and chasing away a collared-dove, Frigga asked: “tell me this, Loki, why do you pick on Balder? Since you were children you have saved many of your most malicious pranks for him – what has he done to earn such resentment?”

“Balder the Brave!” Loki spat with sudden vehemence. “Balder the Beautiful! Balder to whom the birds sing and the trees bend their shady branches! He leads a charmed life – even now the dolts in the mead hall shower him with their loving consolation. Who could not resent such an insipid, doe-eyed thing as he?”

Frigga looked oddly amused by this outburst. She reached out and brushed the underside of his chin with her forefinger while Loki scowled to show how much he appreciated this infantilizing gesture. “Child not of my body, but of my heart – you remain a mystery to all, including, I think, yourself.”

*~*~*

Having wasted the morning in the performance of filial duties, Loki’s plans for serious mischief-making were somewhat put out. The fates conspired against him further when he realised that somewhere in the disorder of his chambers he had lost the roll of parchment whereon he had been painstakingly compiling a list of the most cruel and unusual bodily transfigurations. He spent an hour hunting for it, and then most of the rest of the day finding the books he had used to research it in order to start over again.

Balder was not at dinner and the Warriors Three strongly intimated that they thought Loki had done away with him somehow. The hot-tempered trio were halfway through vowing vengeance in Balder’s name before they could be swayed by Loki’s assurance that if he _had_ slain his new spouse he would gladly admit it – “nay, proclaim it from the very rooftops. Now go away.”

Near midnight, the candles in the study were burning low as Loki strained his eyes over the florid script of yet another grimoire, searching for that skin-stripping incantation he was sure he’d read somewhere only last week, when the sound of a crash in an adjoining room caused him to look up.

His first thoughts were of an intruder (and what he would do to such a foolhardy individual), but then he heard a soft moan of pain in what was clearly Balder’s voice, and recalled that his rooms now had another tenant.

Loki entered the bedroom to find Balder half-sitting and half-sprawled on the rug in front of the bed, rubbing his shin and staring blankly at a tumbled stack of books.

“You’re drunk,” Loki observed, taking in the flush of Balder’s complexion.

Balder sat up and removed his helmet, setting it aside and ruffling his flattened hair. “Yes,” he said, looking up at Loki with an expression of infinite tragedy. “I am quite drunk.”

“Why?” Loki demanded.

Balder rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I needed to think and it seemed to help.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“Yes,” Balder agreed. He rubbed his face, pressing his fingers to his eyelids and then glancing around himself. “Have you seen my lyre? I can’t find it.”

“Am I your mother or nursemaid now, that I should know where you leave your belongings?”

“If you help I won’t break more of your things looking for it.”

Loki sighed and began to search. After lighting more candles he eventually located the missing instrument under a rumpled heap of tunics. Balder’s face lit up in gratitude and he patted the space on the rug next to himself in invitation for Loki to sit down.

“Shall I play for you? Nanna liked to hear me play.”

Loki crossed his arms and remained standoffish. “I don’t care for music.”

“No? I would have thought otherwise.” Balder was squinting at the tuning pegs as he twisted one of them to improve the note of a string. “The Greek Orpheus played the lyre, did he not? He used it to bewitch his way out of the underworld itself. Would _you_ not like to possess such a power, Loki?”

“He was an amateur at such trickery, and as I recall, things did not end well for him.”

Balder smiled. “Let me play you a song, and see if I have at least the power to alter your sour mood.”

“Very well,” Loki agreed, sitting himself down and leaning his back against the bed frame. “but no soppy love songs.”

Despite his degree of inebriation, Balder was able to pick his way through most of a mournful ballad without too many wrong notes or forgotten words.

“That is a stupid tale,” Loki declared when he had finished. “Why would the hunter shoot an arrow at his betrothed? A woman with an apron over her head looks nothing like a swan.”

“I don’t think it really happened, Loki. I think it’s a metaphor.”

“Well play something less inane.”

Balder thought for a moment, chin on his breastbone and fingers tapping slowly on the sound-board, until Loki thought perhaps he was falling asleep. When his eyes reopened he launched into a song about a young maiden being led through the pitchy night by her sweetheart to where he had prepared her a lonely grave. Loki approved of it until it got to the part where the surviving lover was caught and punished on the testimony of the ghost. He had never liked stories with a moral.

“How did you become so proficient, Balder?” he asked as the other god began to play a wordless tune, his soulful glass-blue eyes taking on a dreamy quality. “Did someone teach you?”

“I taught myself, as you did your spellwork, Loki. We both wished for something more than armed combat; to be skilled in something that not all Asgardians could do.” Balder stopped his playing and considered Loki with a painfully earnest look. “I have been thinking on our similarities, you see.”

“And that was the best you could come up with?”

Balder gave a defiant strum on the lyre and said: “I’m not going to tell you the others because you will only mock.”

Loki took the instrument from Balder’s unresisting hands and thought for a brief moment, and for no particular reason, about dashing it to pieces on the stone-flagged floor. Instead he stood and placed it on a high shelf above the general disorder of the room.

“Are you coming to bed?” Balder asked, clumsily tugging at his boots from his slumped position on the floor.

Loki looked beyond the doorway to the dimness of the study where one taper still defiantly guttered, then to the equally pathetic spectacle of Balder drunkenly trying to undress himself.

He extinguished all the candles except those by the bedside with a wave of his hand, and with a second slight gesture, closed the bedroom door. Then he contemplated Balder and thought: _now, if only I knew a spell to counter inebriation._

 _Or an out-of-the-way place for a grave._

*~*~*

Loki had thought Balder would instantly lapse into unconsciousness upon his head hitting the pillow, but instead he seemed inclined to continue his benighted attempts to forge some kind of intimacy.

“It has been a very long time since I have shared a bed with another,” he revealed, lying on his back with his arm beneath his head.

Loki glanced over his shoulder from where he lay on his side, turned to face the wall. “What about your paramour?”

“We did not...” Balder frowned, “that is, we both thought it best–”

“Oh please,” Loki groaned. “Don’t tell me she’s one of those goddesses that claims she’s still in possession of her maidenhead? I think we’re all a few centuries too old for that little white lie.”

“No, I know she had lovers in the past who – don’t distract me, Loki! The point is, we did not share a bed. It was not that kind of courtship, it was more formal.”

Loki yawned pointedly and pulled the covers more securely over himself. “Spare me your blushes, Balder.”

“I have been thinking on practicalities, Loki. My complaint is that I have not lain with another – in any sense – in over a year. And now that I find myself married to you things are... further complicated.”

“Did I say that you had to keep chaste, Balder? Tumble every serving wench in the castle for all I care.”

“That would be against my vows,” Balder replied in a priggish tone.

“Well, that is between you and your overactive conscience. Expect no sympathy from me.”

“I do not want your sympathy.” Loki once again felt the rush of an exhalation against the back of his neck. Balder’s breath smelled faintly sour with beer.

Loki rolled onto his back and stared at Balder, sure he must be misreading the intent of the statement. Balder saw this as an opportunity to lean in for a kiss – which Loki evaded by turning his head, feeling the the other god’s mouth glancing off the corner of his jaw.

“Do I truly repulse you?” Balder murmured into his ear. “Others have found me fair, have professed a liking for my face and voice. What must I do to impress you, Loki?”

Loki laughed with bitter amusement. “Are you already so desperate that you would attempt to seduce _me_?”

“Who should I seduce but my spouse?” Balder was giving him that earnest look which Loki was now beginning to suspect must be belied by some degree of cunning. That thought alone was enough to intrigue him – could Balder the Brave, all of Asgard’s darling, really conceal a shard of steel somewhere within his soft heart? Loki cocked his head to study the other god and in response Balder changed tack – flattery this time, which really wasn’t very subtle – or noble.

“I have often thought on you, trickster,” his breath was hot and ticklish against Loki’s throat as he dipped his head again, lowering his voice as he elaborated: “your skillful hands and agile tongue–”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Oh by all the bastard offspring of the gods – if this is what it takes to get you to shut up and go to sleep...” he shoved Balder back onto the bed and reached beneath the sheets to take him in hand.

Balder made a sound which was a shocked inhalation of breath, rolling his hips and bucking upwards into Loki’s grip.

Things seemed to progress well until it became apparent that both were hoping for different things from the encounter: when Balder clenched his fingers on Loki’s shoulder, Loki shrugged him off; when Balder trailed his hand up the inside of Loki’s thigh to reciprocate the attention, Loki caught his wrist and sternly told him “no.”

Balder shot him a frustrated look. “I suppose you are not fond of intimacy?”

Loki arched an eyebrow. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Balder sighed, covering Loki’s working hand to encourage a more sensual rhythm and nuzzling his jaw again. “This would go much faster if you would at least kiss me.”

For expediency’s sake, Loki submitted.

He noted that Balder was indeed a highly accomplished kisser (as far as his interest in these things went, as Loki only valued kisses when they were useful to his schemes – which was seldom enough, as love interest had never been the most convincing role in his repertoire). Still, there was something lulling and hypnotic about the slide of Balder’s tongue and the press of his teeth against Loki’s bottom lip. It made it difficult to anticipate and interrupt Balder’s insistent caresses, and before long Loki found himself being subjected to what he could only regard as a slow, frustratingly pleasurable mauling.

Somewhere in the midst of this, Balder pulled Loki to sprawl half on top of him, winding a hand in the trickster god’s long hair and pressing his fingers into the base of Loki’s spine. The more awkward angle just made Loki more determined – he tightened his grip on Balder’s shaft and pulled roughly; Balder moaned against Loki’s ear and spattered his seed between their tightly-pressed stomachs.

“Let me–” Balder shifted, rocking against him as he glanced downwards and then back up into Loki’s face, flushed and wild-looking in that moment.

“No,” Loki said, coming anyway, just from the press of Balder’s thigh against the underside of his prick.

“You are _infuriating_ ,” Balder told him, holding on to him until Loki had finished shaking, then rolling over onto his own side of the bed and immediately beginning to snore.

In the next few minutes, Loki came up with many words upon the subject of what he felt to be _Balder’s_ failings (before moving on to speculate on the sexual proclivities of the other god’s mother and ancestors). However, he found reciting this speech to his bedmate’s unconscious form to be largely unsatisfying.

He would just have to tell him over again in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra special bonus - Hummingbirdmoth did [fanart of part 2](http://umafungwashe.deviantart.com/art/merry-210946300)! (You know you want more drunk!Balder and douchey!Loki)


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3: In Which Thor Should Learn to Knock**

Balder opened one eye and then the other, then closed both of them and covered his face with his hands, groaning softly. _Just how many tuns of ale did I consume last night?_

When the pain had subsided into a dull fuzz at the back of his head, he ventured to open his eyes again. He glanced over at the other figure occupying the bed, taking in Loki’s pale-skinned back and his dark hair spread out over the pillow, green-lacquered nails curled around the sheet draped over his waist. Loki seemed to feel the scrutiny – he pulled the covers up and rolled further away, sighing and settling back to sleep.

Balder had not expected the second morning of his married life to involve so much regret and nausea, along with a very literal cold shoulder. The god of light rubbed his face and slowly and laboriously began the process of getting out of bed.

*~*~*

Balder had just passed from the corridor that led from his rooms into the larger, vaulted hall beyond when Thor stepped out from behind a column, arms folded awkwardly across his chest.

Balder wasn’t sure how someone of Thor’s bulk could _lurk_ , but that seemed, to all intents and purposes, to be what he was doing.

“Ah, there you are, Balder.”

“Outside my own chambers? Yes. Is that... unexpected in some way?”

“Fandral and Volstagg were somewhat... concerned by your failing to appear at dinner last night. I told them that I was _sure_ Loki could not have– well, here you are!” Thor gave a hearty, forced-sounding laugh and thumped Balder’s shoulder amiably. “It matters not. Where is it you go so early this morning?”

“To bathe.” Balder rubbed his forehead and squinted at Thor as the other god began escorting him along the hall.

“Are you well, Lord Balder?” a hand gripped the back of Balder’s neck, almost making him stumble. “My brother has not–”

“My indisposition is entirely self-inflicted, I assure you.”

“Ah.”

“What troubles you?” Balder halted and turned to face him. “Clearly you are preoccupied with some dark thought.”

The god of thunder looked uncharacteristically hesitant. “Do not misunderstand me... I love Loki dearly, but I know what my brother is. It would be best for you if you could find some grounds for divorce.”

“It would be easy for me to do so, if I so desired. But I have given my word, which is no empty thing. I will not throw away vows on a technicality, but persevere in this so long as I am able.”

“You have ever been a loyal friend, Balder, and it would pain me to see you made unhappy by anyone. But to see cruelty dealt to you on a daily basis by my own brother...” Thor placed his hands on his hips and shook his head as if to dismiss the thought. “It would be intolerable.”

“I do not wish to cause you pain, Thor, but my mind is made up.”

“And what of your heart, does it have no say in your decisions? Is Balder the Brave an empty letter of the law only?” Thor’s eyes flashed. “How can there be union where there is no love – not even the future possibility of it?”

“How can you say there is no possibility – have you not yourself just declared that you love Loki?”

“I was brought up with him. I have adventured and battled with him, shared joys and woes, confidences and trickeries. There have been, and will be yet, days in which I curse his name – but he is forever my brother, and so beloved.”

“If he is worthy of your love, noble Thor, then how should he not be worthy of mine?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Thor’s mouth. “And so you are determined?”

Balder folded his arms across his chest. “I am.”

“Then I take my leave of you.” Thor half-turned, making as if to go. “Oh, but I had almost forgot – my lady mother gave me a message for you.”

“Yes?” Balder’s brow furrowed as he wondered what he had done to make him worthy of the queenly Frigga’s attention.

“She says that if you would have even a moment of peace in the rest of your married life, you must not allow Loki to feel that he is a cuckoo in the nest.”

“A cuckoo in the nest?” Balder repeated blankly.

Thor shrugged. “My mother is fond of birds.”

*~*~*

Loki woke and sat up against the headboard, rubbing his eyes and pushing his tangled hair back from his face. He opened one eye to look at the other side of the bed, finding it empty. By the position of the sun tracking across the floor from the gap between the curtains it was not yet breakfast time, so the current location of his helpmeet remained a mystery.

Loki was still pondering this when the door of the suite of rooms opened and slammed, and soon after the bedroom door opened to admit the god of light, who was actually _whistling_ , his hair lying damp on his forehead.

“Where have you been?”

“The bathhouse. I felt you might not enjoy making love to a man who smells like a brewery. Here, catch.”

Balder tossed something that glinted in the light at him and reflexively, Loki reached out and caught it. It was a sealed phial of oil.

“What is this for?”

Balder pulled his tunic off over his head and began to remove his leggings. “Oh, I think we’re all a few centuries too old to pretend we don’t know what it’s for, isn’t that so, Loki?” Balder’s eyes twinkled as he eased himself down onto the bed.

Loki gaped at him, not knowing whether to be furious or simply impressed by his temerity. “I realise my reputation precedes me, but do you really think because of what occurred last night I will now be eager to roll over and _present_ to you – like a beast?”

“That’s not what I said at all. Here, give me the oil – I’ll do it myself, but feel free to join me at any point.”

“What are you...?” Loki’s eyebrows twitched as he watched Balder begin stroking himself to hardness with one sure hand.

Loki was well aware that he could just get out of bed and leave the room – he could at least look away. Yet for some reason he did neither of these things, but kept leaning on one elbow with his mouth hanging partially open as the god of light exhibited himself. Balder’s eyes were closed, and there was a high flush of colour upon his cheeks, and Loki was forced to admit that _here_ was beauty – something to be admired as well as envied.

Balder opened the oil and spread his thickly-muscled thighs, tilting his hips up – Loki was still staring, transfixed by the other god breaching himself with a finger, arching his spine and gasping. Everything glistened invitingly with oil, and Loki found himself pushing a finger of his own in beside Balder’s, which wrung a particularly fascinating sound from the other god’s throat, his brows drawing together and bottom lip trembling.

“I am curious, Balder,” he said, working in deeper. “How, pray tell, were you planning to get your lovely bride to participate in such debased activities as this?”

Balder’s thick, dark lashes fluttered and his eyes reopened. “I would have been content with whatever attentions she wished to give me.”

Loki scratched his nails down Balder’s sternum, leaning over him. “Is that so?”

“There are many ways to couple, Loki,” Balder tilted his head to catch Loki’s bottom lip in a suckling kiss. “I look forward to exhausting the possibilities with you.”

Balder ceased ministering to himself to coat Loki’s prick with oil, warm now from being clutched in his hand. Loki aligned himself to slide into the other’s body, feeling Balder push back in ready acceptance.

The encounter wasn’t greatly coordinated or dignified, but it felt incredible – all urgent shoving against each other, kissing sloppily and gasping into each other’s mouths. Balder was so sensitive and open to the pleasure that Loki didn’t even need to touch his prick this time – only hold his thighs apart and rock into him at a perfect angle until Balder tossed his head on the pillow and came all over the taut muscles of his stomach; hard, calloused hands clutching at Loki’s back.

It was deeply, primally gratifying to watch and Loki found that the enjoyment of Balder’s reaction stoked that of his own body. He tumbled helplessly into orgasm, hating himself a little less than he had done the last time as he allowed Balder to hold him close as he shuddered against the other’s broad chest.

Afterwards Balder nosed aside strands of dark hair to murmur into Loki’s ear. “I encountered your brother today. He sought to advise me that it’s hopeless and thus we should divorce.”

Loki raised his head to narrow his eyes at Balder. “Oh, did he?”

Balder took the opportunity to kiss him lingeringly. “I told him I was determined to find at least some ways in which we are compatible.”

*~*~*

As they walked towards the great hall Balder kept stealing conspiratorial glances at Loki, indicating that he was still thinking about the exertions of the last few hours. Loki began to scowl discouragingly back, but then his whole body seemed to throb as he thought of how he had spread out over a table and let Balder take him as a woman, Loki’s heels leaving the ground with every thrust and his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface, heedlessly scattering books and overturning magical artifacts.

He could still feel the ghost of Balder’s hands on his hips.

“Stop looking at me,” he hissed.

“Why, are you afraid that you will blush, Laufeyson?

“No, but your mooning sickens me.”

Balder laughed and brushed the backs of Loki’s fingers with his knuckles.

“Why are they gawping at us?” Loki asked as heads swiveled upon their entrance. Had they been so loud that the whole castle knew?

“Oh,” Balder recalled, “apparently everyone thought I was dead.”

“Ah,” said Loki. “That makes sense.”

*~*~*

**Epilogue**

Loki appeared in his chambers with a crackle and a diffuse green glow. He looked around him at a space he had not occupied in many months, finding that his belongings remained much where he had left them.

He crossed to the fireplace and laid a log on the low-burning embers, for light more than heat (being, himself, impervious to the cold). Next he moved to the table and poured wine out of a silver flask into a waiting goblet. He took a deep sip and gazed, as he did so, at the objects on the rough-hewn mantlepiece – Balder’s lyre, which had a fine layer of dust upon it and the gold band that Loki had taken off and left there. Finishing the wine in another gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked over at the closed bedroom door. He then walked to the couch and sat down upon it heavily, giving a tired grumble as he attended to removing his helmet and boots. Balder’s unicorn-pelt cloak lay over the back of it and Loki draped it across himself before curling up and closing his eyes.

He woke at dawn to a hand on his shoulder. Loki rolled onto his back and looked up to where Balder was leaning on the back of the couch and gazing down at him with curiosity.

“Why didn’t you come to bed?”

“I thought you wouldn’t appreciate the rude awakening.”

“I seem to recall that when we last shared these chambers it was your frequent complaint that ragnarok itself wouldn’t wake me from my nightly slumber.”

“Hmm,” Loki sat up and rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to appreciate what was visible of the god of light’s naked torso. “There was also the fact that our last meeting was on the battlefield. I thought you might still harbour some resentment over that.”

“I have come to accept your betrayals as I accept the changing seasons, Loki. We are gods and thus we are older and more permanent than any strife.” Balder winced when this comment made Loki’s eyes flash and a smile grace his features. “I have a feeling you are going to give me cause to deeply regret saying that.”

“Too late to take it back now, o my faithful spouse.”

Balder snorted and turned away. “Just get your arse into bed, Loki.”

“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?”

“I don’t want to know where you’ve been, who you’ve been with, or what new aberrations you’ve birthed since I last saw you.”

“Then whatever will we talk about?” Loki called as he rose from his makeshift bed to follow Balder into the next room.

Balder climbed straight back under the covers while Loki went to the basin in the corner and washed the dust and grime from his face and neck before undressing and joining him. Balder seemed content to tangle their legs together and kiss him softly all over his face, his closed eyes; fingertips gentle as they skated up and down Loki’s spine.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“So,” Loki began, opening his eyes a fraction to watch the other god’s face. “I have heard tell that Nanna was wed.”

Balder shifted, tugging Loki closer. “Yes, I was in attendance at the ceremony.”

“Did it vex you?”

“Why should I be vexed?” Balder frowned.

Loki seemed to consider this. “Why, because she broke faith and chose another when your choices were taken from you.”

“Forgive my slowness,” Balder said, “for I don’t always catch your intentions, Loki – are you trying to make me jealous of her, or angry at you?”

Loki smiled slyly and pressed his teeth to Balder’s shoulder.

Balder brushed a lock of hair from the trickster god’s eyes. “Who would you have chosen, Loki, if you could choose?”

“I chose you, did I not?” Loki raised himself on an elbow.

“You chose me to be the victim of your cruel prank. I meant who would you have wanted for a real mate?”

In a sudden rolling motion, Loki moved to straddle Balder’s hips, gripping the headboard and drumming a tattoo with his fingernails as he considered the question. “The Midgardians have a saying that there is many a true word spoken in jest.”

Balder blinked up at him. “Are you trying to say that impersonating the bride to utterly ruin my wedding was some manner of courtship? Again, Loki – forgive my slowness – but do you want me to be flattered by this notion or deeply, deeply disturbed?”

“Would you truly prefer to be here with another?” Loki flickered through forms – male, female, Thor, Sif, Nanna – just to see if any provoked a reaction.

Balder smacked his thigh. “Don’t be a brat, Loki.”

“I sought only to offer you variety.”

“You are various enough for my tastes.” Balder stroked Loki’s chest with both hands before settling them on his hips. He had learned to tell Loki’s true form by its imperfections – Loki’s ingenious forgeries were always flawless, while his own true body was flecked with coral-coloured freckles and the small, convex scars of a childhood pox. He was missing a tooth from his lower jaw (extracted for who knew what dark purpose), and Balder would habitually touch the tip of his tongue to the gap as they kissed to know that he lay with Loki himself and not a shade.

“I thought, perhaps, your ardor had grown stale, my lord,” Loki said in the falsely sweet tone he always used when he was mocking Balder. He rubbed the other’s belly in a soothing, circular motion. “I remember well how eager you became the last time I left you untended.” He leaned down to murmur the next part against Balder’s ear: “you had me up against the chamber door. It was hard and uncommon rough, as I recall.”

“Aye, and you gave me enough encouragement.”

“Mmm,” Loki sat back. “It was almost as good as the time my brother so hastily walked in. Do you remember that?”

Balder gave a groan that was half mortification and half arousal at the memory, while Loki grinned. At the moment Thor burst in Loki had been valiantly working his hips in a rhythm that would cause Balder to make the sound that was the trickster’s god’s favourite – the sharp, utterly bewildered sob that came right after his descent into cursing and before “Loki, _Loki_...’ (the way Balder said his name was, incidentally, Loki’s second favourite sound).

From his position astride Balder’s thighs he reminisced: “I thought you would scramble away, at least try to hide your shame – but you were so desperate for it, you just kept moving underneath my hands, didn’t you? While your noble brother-in-arms watched.”

“It was only a moment–”

“Yes, before he fled.” Loki grinned at the recollection of Thor’s face – the thunder god had looked much like he had just received a blow between the eyes from Mjolnir. Loki had realised that Thor simply couldn’t interpret what he was seeing – that it had never occurred to Thor that there was anything more to Balder and Loki’s relationship than cool and mutual resignation. “And I thought: yes golden one, look at what I’ve done to your bright and shining boy. Look at how much he _loves_ it.”

Balder tugged on a section of Loki’s hair, winding it around his fist to bring their faces closer. “Fiend – you love to bring out the worst in me, don’t you?”

Loki’s eyes glinted in the half-light. “Why do you think I keep coming back?”


End file.
